“So, which superstar did we get for the entire right side of our infield?” they asked.
The howls turned to screams when they heard what general manager Bob Howsam had done.
“We got a 5-foot-7 second baseman? Couldn’t we have at least gotten a bucket of door knobs? Who is this guy, a ribbon clerk?”
And they were in apoplexy when they heard that the second baseman had played 10 years in Houston and had a career batting average of .261, had never hit more than 14 home runs and never driven in more than 56 runs.
That was the feeling in Redsland when Joe Morgan arrived, along with pitcher Jack Billingham, center fielder Cesar Geronimo and back-up outfielder Ed Armbrister.
Nobody with sound mind and body ever thought that Joe Morgan, Little Joe Morgan, was the final piece to the Big Red Machine, a very large piece despite his stature.
Morgan was just what the Reds needed — a blend of speed, shocking power and defensive prowess.
He had a large dose of Napoleon Complex, a mixture of swagger, brashness and egotism.
Credit: Al Behrman
Credit: Al Behrman
And he knew it and backed it up.
“To be a star and stay a star, you’ve got to have a certain air of arrogance about you, a cockiness, a swagger on the field that says, ‘I can do this and you can’t stop me.’ I know that I play baseball with this air of arrogance,” he said.
With The Great Eight, a team loaded with Pete Rose, Johnny Bench, Tony Perez and George Foster, it was “Little Joe” who was the National League’s back-to-back MVP in 1975 and 1976.
Those were the two years the Reds won the World Series, 1975 over the Boston Red Sox in seven games and 1976 over the New York Yankees in four straight.
In those two MVP seasons, Morgan’s combined numbers were eye-popping: .324, 44 homers, 127 stolen baes, 205 RBI, 220 runs and 246 walks.
He batted third behind Pete Rose and Ken Griffey Sr., affording him ample opportunities to drive in runs and he produced.
He batted ahead of Johnny Bench in The Great Eight batting order and Bench was most appreciative and heaped the highest praise on his 10-time All-Star teammate.
“When we wanted a hit, he got a hit,” said Bench. “When we needed a stolen base, he got a stolen base. When we needed a home run, he got a home run.
“He’s a Gold Glover, he’s an MVP, he was the key, he was everything. He was as good of a ballplayer as I’ve ever seen, ever played with, ever played against and the person himself was just as good,” he added.
On the basepaths, Morgan was a baseball desperado, willing to do anything to steal a base or swipe a run. He stole 67 in 1975 and 60 in 1976. He knew when he was on base, the pitcher became a nervous wreck and the infielders a jittery mess.
“A good base stealer should make the whole infield jumpy,” he said. “Whether you steal or not, you’re changing the rhythm of the game. If the pitcher is concerned about you, he isn’t concentrating enough on the batter.”
He was no Punch n’ Judy hitter, despite his shortness. He hit 17 home runs in ’75 and 27 in ’76.
Morgan did something when he batted that had never been seen before and has never been seen since. He resembled an eagle about to take flight.
As he stood in the left-handed side of the batter’s box, as the pitcher began his wind-up, Morgan flapped his back elbow, up-and-down, up-and-down, up-and-down.
It was suggested to him by another diminutive second baseman from the early 1960s, Nellie Fox, mostly with the Chicago White Sox.
Fox was 5-foot-10, three inches taller than Morgan, but Morgan considered him a short man who overachieved and he admired him.
It was Fox who advised Morgan to become a flapper.
Early in his career, Morgan was keeping his back elbow too low. Fox suggested Morgan flap the elbow to help him keep it up. Morgan took the advice and it became his trademark throughout his 22-year career.
From 1973 to 1977 Morgan won five straight Gold Gloves, using a glove no bigger than a gardener’s glove. It looked as if it belonged to his neighbor’s Little League son.
While most infielder’s gloves are 12 inches long, Morgan’s was only eight inches.
Why? Nellie Fox again.
Morgan had such soft and quick hands that Fox said the small glove prevented Morgan from losing the ball in a deep pocket, that with the small glove he could field the ball and remove it in an instance for a quick throw.
Morgan played defense with the consistency of a metronome and once went 91 straight games without an error.
During the 1979 season, Morgan made it clear he was testing free agency after the season.
I wrote a column in which I said it was a wise decision, that the days of The Big Red Machine were long over, that Pete Rose, Tony Perez, Ken Griffey Sr., George Foster and Don Gullett were all gone.
I wrote that the Reds were beginning a rebuild and that Morgan was not a part of it. I didn’t criticize him nor say that he was a fading star.
But when I showed up in the clubhouse the next day, he stuck a finger in my face and said, “Don’t ever try to speak to me again.”
And I didn’t. And he didn’t. We went 32 years without speaking, even though when he returned to the Reds as a broadcaster we played doubles tennis against each other, we were on the stadium elevator together.
Then one early Sunday morning, he and I were the only ones in the clubhouse and he approached me, stuck out his hand and said, “I want to apologize. I’ve acted like a juvenile.”
And I said, “I was just as juvenile. But I never thought less of you as a player or as a person.”
We made up that day and I was happy that we did before he passed away in 2020.
Little Joe was a human dynamo.
About the Author